One Step Forward
by NY GE Pyromaniac
Summary: Sometimes, even Alphas make mistakes. Sometimes, even the most romantic legends are just legends. One-shot. Sam/Leah. Review if you like.


**A/N: **First Twilight fic. Hope you like it. It's just something that I think is very possible given the parameters involving Imprinting. Let me know what you think.

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><p><em><strong>One Step Forward<strong>_

By: NY GE Pyromaniac

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><p><em>You're awake….<em>

_That's what the ability to hear what you're thinking right now in this very moment and responding to you would imply…._

_Yeah, sorry, I'm not all here tonight…. Mind if I join you?_

_If you must…._

Not ten minutes had passed when I could spot Sam's black fur shifting through the brush behind me, not to mention hear his heavy paws hitting the ground, hear his heart beating steadily and then hear his _hey_ as he sat on his haunches next to me.

_Hey…. Again?_

_Yeah, can you believe it?_

Barking a soft scoff, I thought, _Not recently, no…. Are you sure you explained Imprinting to her properly?_

Barking a soft laugh, he dipped his head with the thought: _I'm pretty sure I did. Anyway, if she didn't get it after…_ A sideways glance at me sent his unfinished sentence piercing dully into my burning chest. It burned constantly – had already turned into what one could probably even consider part of a new homeostasis. I know. But how else could I describe it? Anyway, that didn't mean I'd lost any of my directness and I could, at least, latch onto that as a reminder of the original homeostatic state of my own life.

_After having to reenact what could have easily made it to an episode of Maury? 'LeeLee, I've been sleeping with Sam. I'm so sorry_.' My soft barks of laughter went unanswered save for the _Damn…_ and it just made me laugh even harder. Sam – same old Sam.

_You done?_

_Yeah, sorry. I know how badly you feel – I shouldn't make you feel worse_, I jibed and laughed again. What? If someone who tripped can laugh at themselves to get over the embarrassment, then why can't I just laugh my pain off?

_Because_, he began, answering the sub-thought, _you're not even laughing your pain off, you're just _reminding_ me._

_Well, _excuse_ me, Mr. Uley, but this is how I deal –_

– _it is _not_! You're just like Emily – passive aggressiveness must run in the blood._

A vicious bark of laughter ripped through my chest. _Or it's an STD…either or, right?_

_ENOUGH! Stop it, Leah!_

…_Is that an order, Alpha?_

He didn't answer, just phased back and walked off after tossing me one last glare.

And again, I was alone in the clearing – right at the edge – and staring off and over at the beach. The moon reflected in the rippling waves and the soft summer breeze danced with the leaves and some of the clothes that hung, drying, outside of several homes. A soft, sweet scent hung in the air – probably one of Emily's pies.

Pssh. Emily. Again, childhood insecurities had reared their ugly heads tonight in her home and again, Sam had come out to think. The idiot probably _tells_ her that he comes out and usually finds me. And talks it out with me. And hangs with me. And has a good time just relaxing with me. In fact, I _know_ that he does this because why else would she ask him, every night, "Leah? Why Leah? Why not Jared or Paul? Why Leah?" Jealousy – no actually, _envy_ in this case – never suited her. It was just ridiculous to think someone so…so sweet, kind, attractive, generous…_beautiful_ could have a reason to feel such a way about…well, about the average, right? 'Ridiculous' falls short, I think.

But also (and again truth be told because it is the, what, fourth or fifth night this week) adulthood, post-ugly-break-up bitterness had taken over me and pushed Sam away. Don't judge me. Please. As if that perfect, self-loving, self-respecting, level-headed and clear-sighted and oh so fucking resilient-hearted person who can just 'deal' with this kind of shit even exists. Maybe he or she or it does… but it doesn't matter. I am not her. I will probably and most likely eventually (in a while) get past this because I feel the bitterness dying away a bit more every night. But for now, I'd just like to stew in this. It hurts but feels good, you know? Like some tribes out there in the world that I can sometimes watch on NatGeo on that show about the Taboo and whatnot, I have my own theories on what makes the human spirit stronger. Through pain, comes growth and all that sappy shit.

I like to think of it as: if you don't have peroxide, Neosporin, or Band-Aids then salt or lemon juice or even whiskey and a napkin serve the same damn purpose.

_Leah?_

_Sam._

_Still there?_

_No, actually, I'm out in Russia now – I can teleport, you see._

_I'm never gonna be able to quit you, am I? _he asked, tearing through the brush and back into the clearing again to sit down next to me.

_I bet you could if you wanted to._

_You think I don't want to?_

_I think you're old enough to know what you do and don't want, Sam. I think you should have paid attention a bit more to that legend about the wife or whatever. _

_It's just a legend?_

_It's just a legend…. Who do you know that's so perfect?_

_Emily._

_Exactly._

_What?_

_Emily. You think she's perfect because you Imprinted on her and that you two fit into some fairytale rendition of our history, but, Sam…it's just a legend. _

He was quiet, caught in sub-thought that I'd already worked my way through. It was always there, just never acknowledged by him and as such I, of course, dug right in to invade his pain as much as he'd invaded mine. And well, because what dog doesn't want a bone? _Imprinting doesn't exist?_

_Ugh, you're an idiot…._

_Then what, Leah?_

_Mix legend with true scientific fact?_

_Which fact?_

_Darwin's Theory of Evolution._

_Huh?_

_Double-Imprinting – for the purposes of expanding the pack genetically._

_You…you think so?_

I barked a loud laugh and shifted to lie on my stomach and rest my head on my paws. _Nah, I'm kidding. I think you, like every other male on this planet has the gene for Stupid attached to their Y-chromosome and _that's_ why you think you Imprinted on Emily – the whole idea of love at first sight winning you for cheesy romance because that's the simplest theory on that topic to understand._

_Wow. So, now I'm stupid._

_No, not now. Always. But it's okay. _

_Explain, please._

_Ever consider that Imprinting is a slow process as well as an 'at-first-sight' thing? _

His silence gave way to sub-thought again and I just listened to the wind rustling the leaves. I couldn't be sure about what I'd just told him – hell, I don't know enough about science and wolf reproduction or homeostasis to know, but at least I'd said something, right? That bit of societal conformation I could handle: expressing your feelings.

_Leah?_

_Sam._

_I love you._

_I know._

_I miss you._

_I know._

_What about you?_

_You already know._

_But it doesn't matter, does it?_

_Not in the least if you have to ask._

He stood after a short stretch of silence and phased back into his human form. I felt him reach down to ruffle my fur as he'd done every night this week on the second waves of our talks, and almost leaned in like I'd felt tempted to the other times as well. But he pulled back and I stayed still. "Good night, LeeLee."

_Good night, Sam…._

He'd go home now, to his Emily. She'd kiss him. And hug him. And caress his face as he would hers. And their love would fill their little home. And he'd probably even make to love to her – prove to her that his having spent his absence from the house with me meant nothing more than a conversation. He'd leave her bubble un-burst for one more night.

But tomorrow night, like tonight and last night and the night before that and the one before that, he'd leave his house in a huff – a fairly new habit of his – and wonder…. Wonder about what Imprinting really meant – how it worked. Wonder about the new step we'd taken in our conversation tonight as he had every night since we'd first started just talking about why he even still talked to me with all my bitter memories and made the connection that he was in some way, shape or form _addicted_ to me. We'd laughed then, but it obviously wasn't as funny as we'd thought.

We'd have tomorrow night and a million nights after that to get to the final step. After all, his sub-thought said it all tonight even if he couldn't bring himself to think it straight up.

_I love you, Sam_.

_Miss me yet?_

_Gonna tell her yet?_

_Gonna wait for me?_

_The window will be open…._

I guess tomorrow night would have to consist of something else. Perhaps another kind of Maury episode.


End file.
